Marked
by whitetiger91
Summary: Just how many of them thought about changing their ways? A short glimpse into the thoughts of a Death Eater during the First Wizarding war. Written for the HPFC forum's 'The Competition that must no be Named'.


**Marked**

**_A/N: I do not own anything from the world of Harry Potter, all of which belongs to the incredible mind of J. K. Rowling. _**

**_This one-shot was written for the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum's 'The Competition that Must Not be Named' by Lily F. Lux. The task was to write a story of between 500- 5000 words on any character I wanted. The catch: I could not mention any character by name. I do have one other entry in mind, but I must say I found it hard to keep referring to everyone as 'he' or 'him', etc. _**

**_This fic is set during the First Wizarding War, but can easily be read any other way using whichever Death Eater you like (even those who absconded). _**

**_I hope I did this justice, and I promise I will try to edit any mistakes ASAP. In the meantime, thank you for reading!_**

**_Word count: 1050_**

* * *

The bitter wind nipped at the back of his neck, raising small bumps on his pale skin as he shivered from its biting chill. With an annoyed grunt, he allowed his companion to take over as he shifted his cloak into a warmer position. Gloves really ought to have been a part of their uniform, yet he didn't dare voice his opinions.

The harsh barks of dogs could be heard coming from somewhere in the distance, accompanied by the ominous sound of a wooden door as it swung back and forth on its hinges. Neither of those sounds, however, could mask the piercing scream coming from the woman on the floor.

He watched bemused as she writhed around, her once tan skin turning an ugly shade of white and blue as she called for help. The tight skirt she donned had ridden up a little from her continuous thrashing about, but none of them succumbed to the temptation offered. They knew better than to contaminate themselves for a few moments of pleasure.

The curse was finally lifted and she lay still, the slow rise and fall of her chest the only sign that she was still alive. The man turned to him, lifting up his mask to reveal steely blue eyes that matched the twisted smirk he wore.

"As much as I love hearing the screams, this one's giving me a headache," he twisted his finger in his ear as he aimed a kick at the woman.

"Perhaps you should have used _silencio_ then. Come now, I thought you were at least smart enough to not think like a Muggle," a third voice, smooth like velvet, joined them.

Preventing himself from mimicking the scowl on his companion's unmasked face, he gave a slight bow to their fellow Death Eater. After all, he was closer to _him_ than any of them could hope, and it wouldn't do to lose favour with him.

The woman on the floor moaned, causing all three pairs of eyes to dart in her direction. She was a simple creature, really, with no brains to go with her voluptuous physique.

They had happened upon the Muggle by chance as they wove their way in and out through various alleyways. An Auror had been on their tail after their plans to ransack a nearby hotel went astray, and they had quickly ducked behind the nearest dumpster for cover- Apparating away from the mess would have seemed as though they were abandoning their mission, and they knew very well that He would not be happy with that. As soon as they believed the man to be gone, they had come out of hiding and explored their new surroundings, only to see the scantily-clad female standing at the end. When she had spotted them, or rather the gold his companion had subtly shown her, she had given them a friendly smile and willingly followed them further into the darkness.

Part of him felt sorry for her; obviously she had not realised that they were the only ones to be having fun that night.

He shuddered slightly, wondering what he would have done if it was his girlfriend lying there instead. Her smile came to the forefront of his mind, and he ached to run his fingers through her silky blonde hair as she whispered nonsense into his ear. She hadn't any idea how he was spending the night, nodding an acceptance that he had been called into work. Sometimes he suspected that she was only pretending to be ok; that she knew all too well that 'work' was simply a code-word for the many tasks his master had set him to prove his worth to the cause. He would often ignore the way her eyes shimmered, as they had done earlier in the evening, silently begging him to get out before it was too late.

It wasn't as if he had never thought about it. The school boy in him still yearned to travel to distant places, perhaps to the States as recommended by some of his comrades. He had always hoped to explore, maybe even discover new and exotic creatures. Alas, his parents would never have allowed it.

He was from an old family, his blood pure and unsoiled. From the very moment he had entered the world he was informed of his duty to the Wizarding world; to purge the rotten fruit that had slipped into the folds of the community, disguised as their brethren. His parents had been overjoyed to learn that he had been summoned to receive his mark- it was the first time that they had allowed the words "I'm proud of you" to escape their always pursed lips.

To leave now would cause their black hearts to shatter- no matter how much he loathed them for his pitiless upbringing, he would not allow that to happen.

The man now standing to his right gave a loud wracking cough, echoing against the walls in the dimly lit passage. As he watched the man bend over, thumping his chest and wiping away the tears that had brimmed underneath his closed eyes, he wondered if he, too, had ever thought of leaving their group. It was no secret that the man's lungs were infected from the many cigarettes he had puffed- no potion had yet been successful in curing him. Did he never regret spending his remaining years to the cause? Would he ever follow him away from their obligation to kill, to go on the adventures that awaited them?

As if He had heard his thoughts, the mark embedded on his inner left forearm burned. Gritting his teeth, he refused to stem the pain by clutching it as his companion was. Their senior stepped forward, quivering lips hidden by his mask, and flicked his wand unceremoniously at the now silent woman. Green light flashed briefly, putting an end to their entertainment.

"Come, we must go. _Morsmordre_!"

With a crack, the man disappeared, following shortly by the other. Sparing one last glance at the woman, he looked to the sky. Glittering above him menacingly, a green snake wafted its way through a skull. The wispy creature flicked its tongue mockingly at him, daring him to turn his back on it whilst knowing that he never could.


End file.
